“Why come out here for peace if everything is still so goddamn loud?” I ask the empty room.
Brushes and scratches fill the cabin’s air, the caked artificial sand hitting the plastic walls. The cat looks up at the sound of my voice, a child caught in the act. His face drips of guilt, one last soiled dirt hike against the back of his toilet and he scurries off.
I need to relax, I came out here to leave all this stress behind. To deal with these irritable outbursts. I bow my head slightly, rubbing my temples. Sweat beading off my brow. This place is like a sauna, damn Florida summer, I wipe it off.
Why did I bring the damned cat?
You know why.
Yeah.
So I wouldn’t be alone with that. My eyes peer through the blur of lashes. Hair dangling from my drooped head.
Ears over shoulders, remember what the doctor said.
I look at the cabinet, shut. Maybe it’s gone. I stand up and begin to pace. I know it’s not, it’s there, I hear it calling. Begging me. I run my hand through my hair,
“shit.”
No, not again. I know how that ends. I came here to prove youre powerless over me. To get away from what you made me do. The wreckage that comes when I open you back up.
Still, I hear its call. It wants me to hand over the wheel, become the passenger again. No road so curvy, so dark, winding us down. We turn off the headlights and coast into the abyss.
The cabinet begins to pulse, a beat. Another. It syncs with my heart. Neither missing a note. A song of all that keeps me alive, a fragile nest of cells and blood. The only thing that keeps me going, that keeps reminding me of what I’ve lost.
A branch hits the window, screeching slowly along, like a missed violin chord. I shudder.
I shouldn’t be here. Safety in numbers, I shouldn’t be alone.
The cat is flinging litter again,
“God damnit will you knock that off, how much do you need to shit!” I fling a shoe at the box. The cat panics and jumps up on the counter knocking into the dish rack. A wooden spoon teeters over and hits into the cabinet at an angle so precise, so unnatural.
I hear it creek open, barely an inch. A shred of light finds the space between.
I shoulda destroyed it when I got here.
I can barely make it out from the shadows, I feel its presence. I need to see it. To make sure,
I walk towards the room’s edge, enter into the kitchen. The hair on my arms stands and my chest begins to collapse while my heart tries to beat free. My legs are stone and I feel weightless, like I could float to the cabinet. I take the first step towards it across the wood floor and realize I’m already there, inches from it, my hand hovering above the handle.
Just shut it, get the cat, head home.
You don’t need to be here.
I need to see it, I want to know. Its just a thing, what can it hurt to look at.
I wrap my lead fingers around the handle, to try and stop them from shaking. I wipe my forehead with my other hand. Soaked. I open the door. Its glow hits me immediately.
Golden brown hues beneath its polished glass shell. It’s beautiful and its hideous. I love it and never wanna see it again.
Well, You saw it, close the door. Leave.
I reach out, unscrew the cap. My arms fully shaking now as I bring the bottle towards me.
PLEASE, NO. Don’t.
And why shouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I taste it? Maybe this time. It will be different.
Maybe this time, it will be better.
I bring the whiskey to my lips, my head shaking with resistance, anticipation maybe, tears streaming down my face.
“I’m so sorry.” I say as I take a long, hard pull from the bottle. I hear my cat meow, and start kicking litter in his box. I take another sip, close the cabinet, and head back to my chair for a night cap.